Azure
by jeffer
Summary: Follow yet another untold chapter in the life of the young elven Prince as he deals with his loss: the loss of his brother.please R&R!
1. Default Chapter

AZURE  
By Jeffer  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Middle-earth or J.R.R. Tolkien's literature, including the characters of Thranduil and Legolas (I wish!). However, all the unfamiliar are mine, and entirely fiction. In writing this fanfic there were no intentions of copyright infringement whatsoever. Any similarities with other fics are unintentional and purely coincidental, if you may. Likewise, forgive any inconsistencies that may appear, particularly with regard to languages, places, events, and ages, for I am not too well-versed on such things; I only know the basics.  
  
NOTE: This mini-fic is the PROLOGUE to a series of stories I have written, which I'd like to refer to as the 'Helyon Series', composed of five fics, each one picking up where the previous story ended.  
  
RATING: PG, for some violent and graphic scenes  
  
SPOILERS: Some, to the trilogy, but I'd like to think they are insignificant.  
  
SUMMARY: When Legolas was much younger, he was not much of the strong, principled and battle-roughen warrior that Middle-earth had come to know. He was an untroubled young prince, a loving son, an avid pupil, a mischievous young elf, and a little brother to healer and warrior Lehramie.  
  
COMMENTS: Constructive criticisms and reviews will be very much appreciated. Visit my blog: www.xanga.com/jhing 


	2. Prologue

PROLOGUE  
  
It was more than a thousand years since the Last Alliance of Men and Elves, and Greenwood the Great is at the peak of its greatness. Led by the Elvenking Thranduil, the woodland realm boasted of perhaps the best, and bravest, warriors in all of Middle-earth. Greenwood became a place of peace and solitude, its borders protected by elven scouts from marauding orcs, rivalrous dwarves, greedy humanfolk, and other creatures whose origins were unknown, but nevertheless reviled.  
  
But beneath the sense of calm and quiet laid an undercurrent of suspicion, anxiety, anger...pain. Pain over the remembrance of those who had fallen, and of those who were brutally taken away...gone forever.  
  
Much loss had been suffered by the Greenwood elves at the end of the Alliance, where their beloved King Oropher met his tragic end, and many of their kin were taken by the enemy...tortured...mutilated.  
  
More than the pain and anger, there was fear...of losing what was left, and of what had just been given to them. Who is to know when it might happen again? For them the grief was much too dear, the wounds much too raw...  
  
...and for some, the anguish ran deeper than most. 


	3. Bound as Brothers

CHAPTER 1 – 'Bound as Brothers'  
  
The blue of the sky was reflected in the depths of their sapphire eyes, twinkling with mirth as they raced through the trees, after the prey that had twice eluded them earlier. No sound could be heard of their rush through the woods; they were much too light-footed and swift to disturb any of the creatures dwelling within. Yet now and again impish laughter would burst out of their lips, finding immense enjoyment in the hunt.  
  
However swift the two elves were, the deer was quicker. It was heading straight into the land outside Greenwood where the Wood-elves, however brave, would not venture into without first having second thoughts.  
  
True to the deer's estimation, the two young elves halted upon reaching the line of trees marking the borders of Greenwood and the southern wastelands. Catching their breath, they watched the animal amble away, as if gleefully taunting them for their failure to catch it.  
  
"And there it goes again," the older, and taller, of the two, rasped between ragged breaths. "Only this time there is no hope of us ever catching it. He has sought refuge in the wastelands."  
  
"Not if the Dwarves get to it first," the younger elf said smugly.  
  
"Haven't you learned a thing from your instructions? Dwarves do not hunt for food. It is more likely it will be snared by humans."  
  
The younger elf visibly blanched at the mention of humans. They gave one last look at the deer and the vast expanse of the wasteland before turning back into the woods.  
  
After a few moments of walking wordlessly under the shelter of trees, the younger elf spoke. "What do you think they would do with the deer when they get their hands on it? The humans, I mean."  
  
"I despair to even contemplate what fate awaits the creature when it falls into mortal hands." His voice showed concern as he spoke. "Already my heart goes to the animal. I know not what they would do, Legolas, but trust the humans to be none too kind about it. At least elves would show more mercy."  
  
Legolas, the younger elf, shuddered. He has a slight fear of humans, and so did his older companion, Lehramie. Although Lehramie was older by eighteen years, he, like Legolas, had never set foot outside of Greenwood or laid eyes on humans. From everything they have been told about the ways of the mortals, Legolas reckoned not seeing any of them was not entirely a bad idea. News of men pillaging and wreaking havoc in the borders of Greenwood reinforced that thought.  
  
Lehramie noticed the younger elf's shift in mood. "Lift your spirits, my friend! There's no need to look so downcast!" A tiny smile played at the corners of his mouth. "You know if you had only let me have my way with that deer instead of trying to outshine me with your mediocre skills with the bow, we would not be in this predicament right now and we would not be having this conversation at all!"  
  
"Is that right?" Legolas replied, worry and fear momentarily forgotten. "And what made you so sure?"  
  
Lehramie gave him a superior look. "I never miss, Legolas," he said with mock severity. "Race you to the horses!" He took off on a run.  
  
Youthful hoops and laughter filled the air as the two elves sped through the trees, one as swift as the other. They reached their small camp with Legolas winning the race by a few strides.  
  
"You may never miss, yes, but I am the faster elf," Legolas stated proudly as he mounted his horse.  
  
They rode their steeds at an easy pace, all thought of hunting abandoned. It had been a delightful day, especially for Legolas. It started out well enough. He woke up to find the weather had been most favorable, a perfect day for hunting, indeed. Then his father, Thranduil the Elvenking, had agreed to forego his son's instructions for the day and let him go out hunting with his closest friend Lehramie.  
  
It was midmorning when they set out from the palace, the sun was just trekking its path up into the sky. Now as they made their way home the sun had already began its descent into the west. Neither cared much if they had no game to bring before the King. As far as they were concerned, they had a wonderful day and that was it. Neither did the King expect the two young elves to bring home anything from their so-called 'hunt', anyway.  
  
They looked so much alike; so much that one could mistake them for brothers. They were, undeniably, a sight to behold, and everyone at the gates leading to the palace bowed their heads slightly to show their respect to the two. Legolas sat on his horse with such stately grace, there was no mistaking his noble birth. The way he held his chin up and gracefully acknowledged everyone he sees was proof enough of his royal breeding. Underneath his now-grubby raiment of green and brown laid the elegance and refinement that is unmistakably that of King Thranduil's household, inimitably of Prince Legolas of Greenwood.  
  
Riding closely beside him, Lehramie, son of Gerian the healer, received almost the same reverence as the Prince. Older than Legolas, he looked very much like the King's son, only taller and of leaner build. They had the same coloring and intense blue eyes. Although he was no child of nobility, he was no less dignified. He carried with him such a regal air that alongside the Prince he looked as majestic.  
  
But the people respected him not only for his close friendship with the Prince. His father, Gerian, was one of the well-loved elves in the kingdom when he was with them still. No one dared to speak ill of the gentle healer Gerian, whose loving hands and soothing ministrations saved the lives of many an elf. When he passed on to the Undying Lands, all the elves of Greenwood mourned. But there was hope yet. His son, the equally gentle Lehramie was with them.  
  
Lehramie had inherited most of his father's healing skills, but first and foremost he was a warrior. At his young age of sixty-seven years, he was accomplished with the bow and skilled with a sword, a weapon only a few of the other warriors take up. In fact, his skill with these weapons was such that the King personally handpicked him to train Legolas with the use of such weapons.  
  
The elves of Greenwood all have one thought: one day, their Prince and his friend Lehramie will be the best warriors their race had ever known. Why, just look at the skills that they possess at such tender ages! Imagine what they would be like when they grow a bit older. They would be unstoppable!  
  
And so it was that the people followed the two's progress towards the palace with reverent and hopeful eyes. Greenwood the Great's two Princes...  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
They barely even lived a thousand years in Middle-earth, these two young elves. They were mere children - my children, the Elvenking of Greenwood the Great thought with proud satisfaction as he awaited Legolas and Lehramie in the stately hall of the palace. Their young age, as well as the King's affection for them was perhaps the reasons why everyone tolerated their childish plays and foolish pranks, all in good fun. As long as no one got hurt, it was quite fine for the King. His son, the young Prince Legolas, seemed happy enough. In fact, looking at Legolas' face right now, King Thranduil knew his son was more than happy.  
  
The King had a hard time keeping his face straight and voice steady as his gaze swept over the two younglings' appearances. They have gone into the woods for some game this morn and have just returned before dinner - as he expected - without any catch. They were a sorry sight, both of them: their clothes soiled and filthy, those long golden locks disheveled, their faces smudged with sweat and grime. Legolas and Lehramie looked thoroughly dirty and worn out, but for the silly grins on their vibrant faces.  
  
"How was the hunt?" the King asked, pointedly gazing at their empty hands.  
  
The two exchanged impish glances then turned innocently to Thranduil. It was Lehramie who spoke first. "Well, see here, your Highness, we spotted a deer---"  
  
"But it got away," Legolas interrupted.  
  
"---because Legolas here missed his shot and scared it away." Lehramie rolled his eyes, making Thranduil bite his lower lip to keep from laughing. The other elves in the hall within earshot were also amused, hiding their smiles.  
  
"Then we spotted it again a little later," Lehramie continued, only to be cut short again by Legolas.  
  
"Oh, that got away, too." The young prince's smile was now sheepish.  
  
Lehramie ignored the younger elf. "I aimed for it but your son stayed my hand, proudly declaring that he shall take down the deer. But you know how poor a shot he is. He brags better than he wields a bow."  
  
"The deer was moving so fast! I could swear it had magical speed!" Thranduil was now smiling at his son's protests, complemented with a dirty look towards his friend.  
  
Lehramie regarded Legolas as a father scolding his ill-behaved son. "Your arrow swung two feet above the animal's head!" He then turned back to the King, who stood there, watching the interplay with amusement. "He tried to chase it through the forest, and I had to go after him lest he get himself into another scrape! Hence, the sorry state of our raiment. But even before we saw the deer, a hare crossed our path---"  
  
It was the King who disrupted him. "Let me guess. It got away."  
  
Lehramie nodded with an indulging smile. "Legolas made such a ruckus he could waken the dead!"  
  
An elbow jabbed sharply at his side made Lehramie cry out in mock pain. "That is what you are here for, right? To train me?"  
  
The older elf faced Legolas, his arms across his chest. "Exactly. But ever since you decided that you have grown, my task became harder. Now I am supposed to make sure you stay out of trouble and well out of harm's way. Believe me, that's a much tougher task than merely teaching you how to use a bow or a blade."  
  
The King finally decided to put a stop to the bantering of the two young elves he holds most dear. "And how very well you do so, Lehramie. Now if I may suggest that both of you go and clean up for supper? I want you to at least be presentable."  
  
In a blink of an eye, the two were gone, leaving the King shaking his head, staring at the wide doorway they had just disappeared into.  
  
Children, he thought to himself. Now what would this place be without those two causing mayhem?  
  
"Where do they get their energy, I wonder?"  
  
Thranduil turned at the sound of a subdued voice from behind to find Feniel, his sister-son, standing not a few steps away. "Why do you wonder? You are of the same age as Lehramie. You should know." Thranduil turned to look out the high window overlooking the courtyard.  
  
Feniel shook his head, mild disdain visible in his brown eyes. "Of the same age, yes. But he is nothing like me. Or us."  
  
"Oh?" The King quirked a brow, eyes settling on a couple of guards elves talking. "How so?"  
  
Hesitation could be noted on the young elf's face but he went on all the same. "We are royals. Lehramie is but the son of an elvish healer. He should not be allowed to join us at our dinner table, or share the Prince's, shall we say, amenities?" The two elves Thranduil had been watching headed for the stables. When they disappeared from view, he spoke. "Your point being?'  
  
All hesitation seemed to have fled Feniel. "I am uncomfortable, as most of your loyal subjects are, about this...special treatment granted by our household to this commoner's son. Particularly his closeness to my cousin."  
  
Thranduil turned and regarded his nephew silently, then said, "Since when have you harbored this...discomfort towards Lehramie?"  
  
Feniel shifted awkwardly at the question. "Quite a while now, my King."  
  
"I see. And you decided to tell me about this only now?"  
  
"It is getting out of hand, my King." Feniel suddenly became defensive. "Now Legolas spends every waking hour, every minute, with Lehramie. I, and the others, fear the commoner's son will be a bad influence to he Prince."  
  
"And how is that possible? Lehramie is an honorable young man, he respects everyone, never attempted to cause harm upon another...I do not believe he had in any way caused trouble within Greenwood ever since he saw the light of day." He sighed. "These...others that you speak of. Who are they?"  
  
Feniel suddenly became even more ill at ease. "I beg your pardon, my King?"  
  
"Their names. What are their names?"  
  
"I cannot betray confidences, my King," Feniel replied, shaking his head.  
  
Thranduil glanced at the several elves that lingered about in the great hall without really seeing them. He knew of Feniel's disfavor, even mild dislike for Lehramie, but he had dismissed it as childish jealousy. From the beginning, Legolas had gotten on with Lehramie without the slightest problems; while towards his cousin Feniel he had never been close, only congenial and polite.  
  
The King voiced that thought aloud. "I somehow sensed the animosity that you seem to hold for my son's friend. Why?"  
  
"I just don't trust him."  
  
"Has he given you reason to warrant such distrust? He has never given me cause to be wary of him, so do most of the elves in the kingdom. Otherwise I would have known about it sooner." He gave a small sigh and lowered his voice. "I trust Lehramie completely, and my son adores him. Truth be told, I look upon that young boy as if he were my own. He may be the child of a commoner, but a most dear commoner he was, and he too, was a friend I cherish. Gerian took care of my father, as well as countless others, including my sister, your mother."  
  
Feniel could not seem to look the King in the eye. Instead he looked down at his feet. "I apologize. That was ungrateful of me, to speak of Lehramie in such a manner."  
  
Thranduil smiled. "Come, there's no need for that. You are still so very young, so much to learn still. I have no doubt you will grow to be as wise as your mother was." He laid a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "I will see you at dinner." Then he walked away.  
  
Feniel turned to see if others overheard their conversation and felt relieved that no one seemed to. His mouth set in a grim line he turned to the window, his mind in turmoil, jealousy eating at his insides, a thousand unpleasant thoughts brewing in his mind, all because of that commoner. Lehramie! Well, he will have none of it. Not anymore. Somehow Lehramie took Feniel's rightful place in the kingdom, including Legolas' and the King's heart. No longer, he thought. I will find a way. I will take what is rightfully mine. No commoner would usurp my place!  
  
He turned away from the window and walked out of the great hall to his elegant rooms at the back of the palace. He has to do something...but what?  
  
* * * * * * * * * * 


	4. Any Greater Fear

CHAPTER TWO. 'Any Greater Fear'  
  
Dinner was a feast, as expected of the wood-elves. Wine went all around and good food seemed to grow out of the ornate tables as the elves who were given the honor of sharing the meal with their King chattered about good- humoredly. On the head table sat the King himself, and on his right was Legolas and Lehramie. On his left sat his niece, the lovely Reeneal, and her older brother Feniel.  
  
Most of the talk and laughter centered on Legolas and Lehramie's hunting expedition gone wrong. The Prince took the ribbings in good stride, while Lehramie sat there in silence, an amused smile on his face. The King was patiently listening to the exchanges inside the room, obviously taking great pleasure out of his son's discomfiture.  
  
Meanwhile, Feniel sat sullen, as if in deep thought, smiling every now and then and pretending to listen to the conversations going around. But on the face of his younger sister Reeneal could be seen a serene expression and an adoring smile as she gazed upon Lehramie. This look was not lost on some of the elves in the room, including Legolas and Lehramie. Indeed, many times during dinner Lehramie's blue eyes would meet those of Reeneal's green ones, only to look away again.  
  
A roar of laughter from their dinner companions interrupted Lehramie's brooding. He shook himself mentally and looked up to find Legolas turning a beet-red beside him. Lehramie gave a small laugh, not knowing exactly what brought it on but amused nevertheless at Legolas' state.  
  
But Feniel didn't seem to find anything amusing. In a somber tone he said, "You could have put your life in peril, cousin, wandering off towards the wasteland like that. It is a dangerous place, you know that." Without waiting for a reply from Legolas, he turned indifferent eyes towards Lehramie. "But of course, your...protector, Lehramie, was there. There was not any need for worries, am I right?"  
  
The hard edge to Feniel's tone was not lost on Lehramie, as well as a few others around the table. Some of them shifted uncomfortably in their seats as awkward silence reigned, eventually broken by Legolas.  
  
"But of course, cousin Feniel," he said proudly, not a trace of malice in his voice. "Lehramie is like my brother. I trust him with my life."  
  
Lehramie's gaze swung to meet Legolas' trusting eyes. Ah, so much trust, so much adoration in those blue eyes that mirrored his own. He smiled at the younger elf, an unspoken promise passing between them. Lehramie had no one else; his father Gerian passed away into the Undying Lands to join his wife, and he had no siblings. He had no one...except, of course, Legolas.  
  
Feniel watched them intently, his earnest tone belying the hardness in his brown eyes. "Ah, yes. Who wouldn't? One of the best archers and wielders of a blade, one would be unwise not to trust their lives in his hands."  
  
Lehramie immediately tensed, his hands clenched into fists as he bit his lip, not wanting to cause any scene with Feniel. The King's nephew had always made it pretty clear that he holds no soft spot for him, and that was always fine for Lehramie. Besides, Feniel was the King's nephew...Legolas' cousin...Reeneal's older brother...  
  
King Thranduil cleared his throat, sensing the tension in Lehramie. With a quick motion of his hands, he beckoned the maidservants to bring in more food and wine. At the sight of the bounty the others seemed to forget the strain that invaded the room a while ago, and moved to partake of the spread laid out before them.  
  
The rest of the evening went by without any mishaps. When the others retired for the night, Legolas and Lehramie still lingered in the hallway outside the Prince's rooms.  
  
"Odd." Legolas spoke, looking about as if expecting someone eavesdropping down the hall.  
  
"What is?" Lehramie asked, wondering what the Prince is looking for.  
  
Although assured that no one else was listening, Legolas still spoke in a conspiratorial manner. "Feniel. He spoke to you. My cousin actually looked at you and engaged you in a conversation."  
  
Lehramie became thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded. "He did, didn't he? Although what transpired between us hardly qualifies as a conversation."  
  
"Curt though he was, he still spoke to you. That is something, right?"  
  
Lehramie lifted his shoulders. "I fear it does not mean a thing, on his part, at least." He paused, looking earnestly at Legolas. "Your cousin does not like me, Legolas. In sooth, I think he hates me."  
  
"That's rubbish!" Legolas shook his head vehemently in disbelief. "I do not entirely like Feniel but he is, after all, my cousin. Perhaps he was just having trouble of some sort. Besides, he is harmless, not even what we would refer to as 'skilled' with the bow."  
  
Lehramie changed the subject, pushing Legolas towards the door of his room. "You better get some rest, Legolas, or you will be in trouble when we meet to train tomorrow."  
  
"Someone will be in trouble, all right, but it won't be me!" Legolas' eyes suddenly glinted teasingly. "On your way home, why not stop by Reeneal's? You might want to talk to her."  
  
Lehramie's face was a mask of innocence as he stared blankly at his friend. But Legolas did not buy it.  
  
"Oh, come, Lehramie! I saw the way she was looking at you at dinner. Go talk to her! It's clear enough she holds you dear, and I doubt not that you feel the same."  
  
Lehramie merely shrugged, an almost wistful smile surfaced on his face. He tilted his head at his friend and said, "Go on in now, my Prince. It is time for me to hit the pillows as well." Bidding each other good night, Lehramie walked off down the hall and Legolas went into his rooms.  
  
He was almost to the great door of the palace when he heard the soft voice that kept him awake for nights on end.  
  
"Lehramie. Will you leave without saying good night?"  
  
Slowly he turned and beheld her as she stood there, breathtakingly beautiful and looking absolutely divine in the dim light of the great hall. She still had not changed from the leaf-green gown she wore at dinner, and this made Lehramie frown.  
  
"Reeneal," he said softly. "What are you doing out of your rooms at this hour? You were supposed to be asleep now." Protectiveness surged within him, more out of instinct. Truly, he feels most protective towards three people alone: the King Thranduil, Legolas and Reeneal.  
  
"I could not sleep," she replied, and took a step forward, stopping when she saw Lehramie stiffen at her approach. "Oh, Lehramie, why do you shun me so?"  
  
Lehramie shook his head, not knowing how to explain. "It is not that, Reeneal. It is just...It is hardly proper...your brother..."  
  
It was Reeneal's turn to shake her head, a small smile lighting up her fair features. "Feniel? He hardly cares what goes on around him, least of all about me." She gracefully moved towards him and, transfixed, Lehramie stood there, watching her seemingly glide.  
  
He could not find any words when she finally stopped before him and looked deep into his sapphire eyes. Neither could he move an inch when Reeneal reached up to softly touch his left chin.  
  
"Such beautiful eyes you have," she whispered with such tenderness. "Like gems. I don't believe I have ever seen such...beauty."  
  
Carefully Lehramie grasped her hand touching his face and held it away from him. "No, my Lady," he said, his voice choking with emotions as he let go of her hand and took a step back. He tried to close his mind off, tried to ignore the anguish that swiftly invaded her beautiful face.  
  
Lehramie could not bear to see this. He gave her a pleading look and said, "You know what is in my heart." Reeneal shook her head and he could see tears threatening to burst through the orbs of her green eyes. "Never doubt, not even for one moment, that what I feel is untrue."  
  
"You lie." Such pain was mirrored in her eyes, glazed over by tears about to flow. Lehramie gazed at Reeneal, his heart in his eyes, and his pain as well. "You must understand. Honor dictates that I keep my distance. My honor, and yours."  
  
"There is nothing dishonorable about---!" Her voice lowered to a whisper, but Lehramie heard her all the same. "Is honor the only thing you care about?"  
  
"It is the only thing I have which is truly mine," he said simply. "I do not want to make enemies, Reeneal, especially of your brother. I respect him. I also respect the fact that you are of noble birth, and I am not."  
  
"What about your heart?" A single tear slipped down her velvety cheek. "You speak of honor and respect...what of your happiness?"  
  
A wistful smile surfaced on Lehramie's face. "Ah, but to behold your beauty in the morning and listen to your voice which is my heart's melody...I am content."  
  
Silence reigned for a long moment between them as Lehramie met Reeneal's imploring look with kind but resolute eyes. Gradually Reeneal's face brightened and she beamed at him. "Time will pass, surely things will change. Perhaps then..."  
  
Lehramie only nodded. "Perhaps." He did not want to promise anything, although his heart all but burst with the longing that engulfed it right this moment.  
  
Reeneal moved forward slightly and touched Lehramie's cheek one more time. "Rest well, Lehramie," she whispered walked away towards the hall to her room. Lehramie stood there for a moment, watching her. When he heard the lock of her door slip into place, he ventured out of the palace towards his own humble home.  
  
Unbeknownst to him, a pair of brown eyes observed his progress. Lip curling with disgust, Feniel's fist gripped the window jamb, jealousy searing through him like hot liquid fire. Even his sister Reeneal...  
  
He turned away from the window, fighting the urge to confront Reeneal next door. It was not her fault that she was blinded by Lehramie's charms. What on earth do they see in that lowly elf!  
  
Feniel knew that a lot of people do not like him and his attitude. But he has one trait: patience. He is a very patient being. But for the first time in his life, he felt on the verge of losing it.  
  
Feniel sighed. Well, if he was the only one able to see through Lehramie's innocent façade, then he would have to do something about it, wouldn't he? He is, after all, kin to the King. It's his duty.  
  
When you play with stakes this high, there's no right or wrong. By fair means or foul, he must sever the ties between his cousin and the commoner.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Legolas heard the rapping on the great wooden door of his room as he was preparing to sleep. When he called for the visitor to come in, the door slowly opened to admit his cousin Feniel.  
  
"Feniel!" Legolas greeted the older elf and bade him come in. "You need anything?"  
  
"I just felt like a talk," Feniel replied, closing the door behind him. "If you have the time to spare."  
  
"Of course, I have." Legolas wondered what brought Feniel into his rooms. They rarely 'talk'. All they had were exchanges that were quite few and far between.  
  
"I thought you would be exhausted, considering all the time you spend with Lehramie. What mischief have you managed to get yourselves into this time?"  
  
It dawned on Legolas what brought his cousin over when Feniel spoke Lehramie's name with a chilly voice. "It was hardly mischief, Feniel," he reassured the older elf.  
  
"Then what do you call it? Causing ruckus in the courtyard, stirring trouble, bursting in on people...you act like errant children!"  
  
He tried to give a wide grin. "Oh, but we are children, Feniel! Alright," the Prince said in resignation and leaned back, "let us finally have it in the open. What bothers you, really?"  
  
"You trust him too much, Legolas!" Feniel burst out. "You treat him like an equal when he is not!"  
  
Legolas sighed. "I am beginning to tire of this exchange, Feniel. Really, we are all of one race, of one blood, all of us elves. Your endless talk of nobles and commoners is sheer nonsense!"  
  
"Nonsense, is it? Legolas, there is a reason why thrones and plain chairs are crafted, why palaces and lowly houses are built. One reason: People are intended to use them, dwell in them. We may be of the same race but there is something that sets you and me apart – and above – the rest of them. The noble blood of our royal ancestors." Ignoring Legolas' shaking his head, he went on. "What's more, you spend more time with him than you do with the rest of the family! You must be careful."  
  
"You make Lehramie sound dangerous. A threat."  
  
Feniel shrugged. "Perhaps he is. Granted, he is a good warrior, very polite, always with good intentions...but we do not really know much about him, do we?" He tried a different tack. "All I am saying is, be careful. Do not trust him too much. We could not know for sure what he is truly like."  
  
Legolas' brows are now furrowed. "Elaborate."  
  
"Let me remind you, then. His grandfather Rolfan, although presumed dead, the thought on everyone's mind is this: what if the great Rolfan happens to be one of those monstrous orcs our warriors constantly cross paths with? What if, by Rolfan's hideous hands and gruesome teeth, the flesh of our elven-kind was torn, their lives snuffed?" He began pacing. "And do not forget Lehramie's mother, that traitorous -"  
  
"She was not a traitor," Legolas butted in, getting irritated at the flow the conversation is going.  
  
"She turned her back on her elven-kind at a time when they most needed her! At their hour of need, where was she? She opted instead to go out of Greenwood, leaving behind her kin to perish in the plague. And she called herself a healer," he spat out with disgust.  
  
"She went in search of Rolfan, her father," Legolas pointed out.  
  
"And did she find him? Who paid the price for her heroics? A lot, including my mother."  
  
Legolas stared at Feniel, sympathy in the depths of his blue eyes. "It was a tragedy, Feniel."  
  
A bitter smile distorted Feniel's fair face. "Yes. A tragedy. Something I do not want to befall on my family...on you, Legolas."  
  
Legolas chose not to say anything this time. Feniel straightened and headed for the door, turning back when he opened it. "There is darkness in him, Legolas. I sense it. I see it. It might be that you choose not to, but heed my warnings, cousin." With that, he was gone.  
  
Legolas stared at the closed door, mulling over Feniel's words. Then he shook his head. Lehramie is his friend, his brother. He has no reason to doubt him.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Eyes ahead!" Lehramie bellowed, shaking his head in disapproval as Legolas stumbled, falling on his stomach on the grassy ground. Lehramie reached out a hand and roughly pulled the Prince to his feet. "Never for one moment break eye contact with your opponent, or that will be the end of you!"  
  
With one swift movement, Lehramie was on top of Legolas, pinning him to the ground. Stunned, the Prince tried to get up but found he was immobilized by Lehramie's weight. A spurt of anger erupted within him and, with a livid cry tried to push Lehramie away.  
  
This proved futile when Lehramie easily flicked Legolas' wrist, sending the Prince's knife from his hand. "Do not be such a child, Legolas," Lehramie whispered and pulled away. Legolas lay there, breathing hard, his ire was all the more stoked when he spotted the calm look on Lehramie's face.  
  
"You took me by surprise!"  
  
"Which is what every opponent will try to do." Lehramie sat on the ground, leaning back. "Never attack in anger, Legolas. You see what just happened? You tried to strike me in rage, and you were disarmed. Anger clouds the mind. Remember that. In a fight, keep your cool. Try to focus. Concentrate."  
  
The anger within Legolas gave way to frustration, flowing through him as he bent to pick up the knife he had dropped. "Could we not go back to training with the bow?"  
  
"You cannot hope to be a warrior if you familiarize yourself with only a single weapon. You have to be skilled with the bow and the knife. Do not limit yourself." Lehramie stepped back. "Now, do it again, and make the lunge cleaner this time."  
  
Legolas shook his head in exasperation but obeyed just the same. After more than two hours, Lehramie grudgingly declared Legolas had a better grip than when he started earlier.  
  
Worn out, Legolas stretched out on the grass and stared up at the vast blue sky. Lehramie did the same beside him, oblivious to the sound of other warriors training nearby.  
  
"Your skill with the bow is increasing, although you still need more training," Lehramie said. "You will learn how to use the knife easily enough, that much is clear."  
  
"Training with the knife is maddening! Look at these nicks and cuts!"  
  
"Oh, quit whining, Legolas! Those are mere scratches! In battle, you better pull out all the stops and fight like your life depends on it. But be prudent enough to know your limits. That is what we are trying to do. It is wiser to know your skills are mediocre here than in the middle of battle."  
  
Legolas mulled over this for a while, and said, "When will you teach me how to wield a sword?"  
  
"I will not," came the faint reply.  
  
Legolas turned his head to find Lehramie had closed his eyes. "Why not? You are very good with it. You can teach me."  
  
"I can, but I won't. There is already enough talk amongst the others about my using a sword. I will not subject you to various talks about it."  
  
Legolas smirked. "Since when did you care what the others say about you?"  
  
"Never. But it is you they will talk about, you who will be the focus of much speculation. I would have none of that."  
  
"You are very good with those massive blades. Exceptional, I think, is how Father rated your skill." He paused. "Do you like it?"  
  
A scoff issued from Lehramie. "The blade? Not in the least. But I still try to learn it. It is, after all, what ended Father's life." He paused, paying respect to the memory of the slain Gerian. "Swords are designed to kill, Legolas. Swordsmanship is a method for killing, no matter how you try to make it clean and beautiful. No, I do not like it at all."  
  
"Just as well. As much as I respect a sword, it is not to my liking. I'd prefer my bow...and my knife." Legolas beamed. "I shall make you proud of me, my friend. I will be one of the toughest warriors our race had ever known. They shall fear me, in a reverential way, of course." Lehramie smiled in spite of himself, but his tone was still that of a teacher talking to his pupil. "The toughest warriors are not necessarily the ones with the greatest strength, nor the ones with the finest weapons or unsurpassed skills. The toughest warriors are the ones who lay down their weapons and find a more productive way to live...in service of others, perhaps."  
  
Wonder filled Legolas' blue eyes as he beheld his friend. "You are one of the toughest warriors I have ever had the honor of knowing. Is there nothing you fear?"  
  
For a split second Legolas thought Lehramie would not reply for he turned away. Then he looked back up, a small smile betraying the sadness in the eyes that mirrored Legolas' own. "The dark. Caves, tunnels...they terrify me. The thought of being in those forsaken places, with no light, alone...it's unbearable."  
  
The Prince fully shared Lehramie's fear, albeit for slightly different reasons. Legolas had heard the stories brought by scouts about those places, and that was enough for him to develop a fear of venturing into them. Lehramie's fear, however, ran deeper than that. His grandfather, Rolfan, Gerian's father, was among those ill-fated elves who fell into the hands of the Dark Lord during the First Age. Tortured, mutilated...Rolfan was widely believed to have become one of the first breeds of Orcs. Although everyone had concluded that Rolfan had perished, Lehramie had that long- lingering fear that his grandfather still existed, now one of those deformed and foul beings, inhabiting the many crevices of Middle-Earth.  
  
"But if I do get into one," Lehramie continued, now smiling more widely, "I'll make sure you were there with me to share the experience."  
  
Legolas laughed. He loves having these talks with Lehramie. Always he learned something from his friend, older by a mere margin of eighteen years but seemed as wise as Thranduil. Life as a commoner's son had molded him this way; his father Gerian had taught him well.  
  
Out of the blue, Feniel's words from the previous night came back, but Legolas merely smiled to himself. The darkness in Lehramie, as Feniel put it, was eclipsed by the light of his character, the strength of his faith, the goodness in his heart and the wisdom that he seemed to embody.  
  
Lehramie nudging his side disturbed his musing. "On your feet, my friend. The day is not over yet, and so is your training."  
  
With a disgruntled groan Legolas let Lehramie pull him up. A very good teacher, but a ruthless one, too. Shaking his head in a mixture of frustration and amusement, Legolas picked up the knife and prepared to train again.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
His name is Gleofur, one of the palace's newest guards. More than a hundred years old, he came from a family who had spent their entire lives working in the palace, serving the royal family. Upon his father's death it seemed but natural that Gleofur take his place.  
  
An astute admirer of the King, Gleofur was ambitious. He wanted more than anything to be famous, to be respected and revered. He would do anything to have the life that the royal family lived now. ANYTHING.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Thanks to Haldir's Heart and Soul for the reviews! ( 


	5. Strange Hues

CHAPTER TWO – 'Strange Hues'  
  
It was a perfect day for hunting. The sun seemed to cooperate fully, its radiance well suited for an activity such as this.  
  
Legolas and Lehramie rode in front of the hunting party. There were eight of them in all: Legolas, Lehramie, palace guards Gleofur, Aidyl, and Edval, warriors Pelrem and Gerhea, and Feniel.  
  
It was a surprise to both Legolas and Lehramie when Feniel came into the stables this morning, all dressed up for the hunt, and began to saddle his own horse. After all, he was very vocal in the past about having to go to these 'valueless' trips that, for him, are a complete waste of time. However, they thought it better not to comment on it. Besides, what's the harm in having him along?  
  
Feniel was surprisingly in spirits better than usual, although he addressed only his cousin Legolas, not even giving a moment's notice to the palace guards, except a few words here and there to the warriors. Lehramie, of course, he blatantly dismissed, not even acknowledging him with a glance. Legolas peeked a smile at Lehramie who gave an unconcerned shrug.  
  
They stopped well before midmorning and set up camp, tethering their horses and making ready to continue the hunt on foot. They were to go out in pairs. Legolas and Lehramie, Aidyl and Pelrem, Edval and Gerhea, and Feniel and Gleofur. Satisfied with their pairs, the hunters went off in separate directions after agreeing to come back to camp at midday.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Legolas sensed something was amiss. He's not sure, but the thought suddenly came to him, nagging at him, out of nowhere. Ridiculous, he thought to himself. No strangers would dare venture enter the realm of the Wood-elves and risk the ire of its inhabitants.  
  
But still it plagued him, quite like the sound of the palace bells tolling: Danger.  
  
"Legolas," Lehramie called from behind and Legolas turned to look at him. "You go on ahead," he said. "I shall not be far behind."  
  
Legolas asked, puzzled. "What is it?"  
  
"It is nothing." Lehramie smiled reassuringly. "I just thought I saw something I should check out. Go on," he urged Legolas.  
  
Legolas resumed walking, his senses alert. Lehramie must have sensed the same sense of foreboding that overcame him. His bow at the ready, he scanned the woods, making sure he stayed within Lehramie's sight.  
  
More than an hour went by and Legolas did not notice anything out of the ordinary. He thought it was just his imagination working overtime and so he became even more comfortable, turning every now and again to find Lehramie not far behind, with some twenty yards between them.  
  
Just as he was about to dismiss all thoughts of danger and caution and really get into the spirit of the hunt, he heard Lehramie call out.  
  
Legolas whirled around at the sound of his name, just in time to see Lehramie draw on his bowstring and shoot at something. Bewildered, he turned to look at the direction Lehramie shot at and was taken aback at the sight of Gleofur crumpling to the ground, an arrow embedded on his right, just where his shoulder and arm met.  
  
"What...?" Legolas voice trailed as Lehramie tore his gaze away from Gleofur to look at the Prince, a concerned look on his face.  
  
"Are you alright?" Lehramie called out, walking towards him.  
  
Legolas did not seem to hear his friend's query. Looking past Lehramie's shoulder, he saw Feniel appear, bending over the downed Gleofur, his back to them. "What...Was that Gleofur?"  
  
"Yes. Yes, it was him," Lehramie replied quite distractedly, his face now flooded with relief as he stood before Legolas. "I thought you were hurt."  
  
Lehramie's earlier look of worry and now this relieved expression finally penetrated Legolas' dazed consciousness. He turned to look at Lehramie. "Of course I am alright. What made you think otherwise?"  
  
"Gleofur. He took a shot at you," Lehramie explained. "I had to shoot him first. Are you sure you aren't hurt?"  
  
Legolas shook his head, not quite believing what just happened and what Lehramie was saying. "I am fine. If I were hit by an arrow, don't you think I would have felt it by now?" His eyes returned to Gleofur's direction, Feniel still bending over me. "Gleofur shot at me? Whatever for?" he asked incredulously.  
  
"I do not know. I was puzzled myself. I had to do it. I had no choice. There was no time to warn you, Legolas. I would have spared him the shot if I were sure what he was up to. But I could not be sure." Lehramie was about to say something else when Feniel's voice rang in the air.  
  
"Cousin!" Both Legolas and Lehramie turned to find Feniel on his feet, standing over the still body of Gleofur.  
  
Feniel's face was troubled. "He is dead!"  
  
Their other four companions were now approaching from various directions but stopped at Feniel's loud declaration. All eyes turned towards Lehramie, including Legolas' own distressed ones.  
  
Lehramie's mouth set in a grim line as he shook his head. "But that's not possible!" he exclaimed, looking at Gleofur's body, still and unmoving.  
  
Feniel spread his hands widely, and said, "Well, he is. Why don't you come see for yourself?"  
  
Lehramie became subdued all of a sudden as he checked on Gleofur himself. He bent down, felt for any signs of life and, after a moment, straightened and said in a puzzled tone, "He is gone."  
  
He looked at Legolas then, who stood there, stunned upon confirmation of Feniel's declaration. "I do not understand..." Lehramie began.  
  
"The guard was shot dead. What is there to understand?" Feniel's harsh words interrupted Lehramie, a deeper meaning running through his words, eyes gazing contemptuously at him.  
  
But Legolas was not hearing any of this. The words 'He's dead' kept ringing in his ear, only to be replaced by Feniel's words some nights ago. 'There is a darkness in him...' 'Danger...'  
  
"By the gods, Lehramie," Legolas whispered finally, shocked. "What have you done?"  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
The hunt was cut short; the company turned back to home, Gleofur's corpse borne by Aidyl & Edval. For Legolas it seemed the day had ended abruptly before it had even begun. And what an end it was.  
  
He could not forget the look on Lehramie's face when Legolas had spoken earlier. Lehramie looked as though he was hit hard in the middle. He paled, his eyes suddenly becoming stormy, his fair face on the verge of crumpling to tears. But in an instant his face smoothed, calmed...yet his eyes suddenly became chilly, like two splints of ice. He had given a slight nod at Legolas, then said, "I guess I have just killed Gleofur," in an equally cold voice.  
  
Then he turned away, and had not spoken since.  
  
Legolas could not keep from giving Lehramie a glance now and then, just to make sure he was all right. But Lehramie showed no outward signs of any expression. His face remained stoic throughout the ride home, his face carved like granite, his eyes unreadable as he kept his gaze ahead, oblivious to the others, including Legolas.  
  
The Prince half-longed, half-dreaded to finally reach the palace gates. As much as he wanted to get home to finally put Gleofur in the rightful hands, he feared what would befall his friend - who suddenly seemed to become a stranger - the minute they reach the palace and everyone found out about the incident. Although the people of Greenwood are not ones who are quick to judge, still...an elf was slain by another elf. And that is enough.  
  
Uneasily, Legolas stayed his horse and, noticing this, the others drew to a halt as well, looking at the Prince questioningly.  
  
He turned to look at Lehramie, who also stopped but remained impassive. "Lehramie," he called out softly, flooded with an overwhelming need to know...or just to hear his friend speak. "Lehramie, please-"  
  
"The day grows old, your Highness," Lehramie replied crisply, turning to Legolas but his eyes directed somewhere on the Prince's shoulder, not meeting his eyes. "Let us not tarry any longer," he added and, with a slight kick to his horse's side, resumed moving.  
  
Legolas heard Feniel speak beside him. "We must proceed, cousin. Once we reach home, everything will be resolved."  
  
The Prince looked at his cousin, as though needing reassurance that what the older elf said had any chance of coming true. Feniel smiled in encouragement. "At least let us hope it will."  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
The rest of the day passed in such a daze that Legolas had hoped it was all a bad dream. It seemed everything went by in an instant...a flurry of movements of which he had no control over, an onslaught of questions that he seemed to have answered and yet he had no recollection of ever understanding what was being asked of him.  
  
In the great hall of the palace there was pandemonium. Outrage and disbelief reigned amongst everyone who came in to find out what had happened. Even as the incident was recounted the elves still could not seem to grasp the full meaning of what had transpired.  
  
Legolas had watched Lehramie taken away by the hesitant palace guards after being presented to Thranduil. The King didn't seem to quite understand what the other members of the hunting party were telling him. All the time his scrutinizing eyes were fixed on Lehramie, unmoving and silent before him, as though trying to read what the young elf was thinking.  
  
But Lehramie had not shown any outward signs of emotion, yet his eyes met Thranduil's, never flinching. Not once did his eyes stray to the others around them, not even Legolas. It seemed he became carved of stone, his face etched in granite.  
  
Thranduil had raised his right hand to silence everyone in the room, and when the din ceased, he sighed wearily, lines already appearing on his face. It seemed for the past few minutes he had aged a hundred years.  
  
"Lehramie, son of Gerian, you shall be taken to your own cell, while awaiting trial. You will be given the chance to tell your tale then. For now..." he shook his head and, in a soft but firm voice, said to the guards, "take him now."  
  
Lehramie showed no resistance as he was led out of the great hall, his head held high, ignoring everyone on his way, his face blank.  
  
Now, as Legolas finally noticed the hall had been emptied, he slowly turned to his father and found Thranduil gazing upon him with unfathomable eyes, his face serene.  
  
"Son," he motioned for Legolas to come nearer and the Prince obeyed. When he was within an arm's reach of the King, Thranduil spoke. "What truly happened?"  
  
Legolas bowed, his mind a jumble of incoherent thoughts. "I have told you all what I know...what I have seen. There is nothing more I could tell you."  
  
"This seems...a bad dream," Thranduil whispered, but Legolas did not say anything, knowing his father was speaking to himself more than his son. Suddenly the great wooden door of the hall burst open and the King and the Prince turned around to find a distraught Reeneal hurry in, followed by a displeased Feniel.  
  
Thranduil straightened as Reeneal gave a small bow before him. "Your Highness," she breathed.  
  
"Reeneal," the King acknowledged, with an idea of what brought his sister- daughter into the great hall. He gave a small nod at Feniel, who stopped some distance behind his sister.  
  
Without much provocation Reeneal launched into an impassioned speech. "I have heard what happened, but I do not believe a word of it. Lehramie is not capable of such an atrocity Feniel and the others accuse him of!"  
  
It was Feniel's turn to speak. "If you knew what you are saying, you would know Lehramie is more than capable! And it is not only I who witnessed it. Legolas," he nodded at the Prince, "saw more than anyone of us what Lehramie had done."  
  
Incredulous eyes turned towards Legolas and there was much question and disbelief in those eyes that the Prince turned away, afraid of what Reeneal might see in his. "Legolas," she said softly, "pray tell me this is all a mistake."  
  
When Legolas could not reply to this, Reeneal became aghast. "But you cannot believe Lehramie meant to do it! Kill Gleofur..." She shook her head, as though the very thought was unthinkable. "Do you believe it, Legolas? Do you believe Lehramie meant to kill the guard?"  
  
"Reeneal, I---"  
  
"He did not do it, not my Lehramie. You know him, Legolas. We grew up together. He is not capable of such...monstrosity!"  
  
"All evidences point to him!" Feniel declared, and Reeneal whirled on him.  
  
"Lehramie is innocent! I know he is, and no amount of evidence would make me believe otherwise!"  
  
"Would you defy me, Reeneal? Your own brother?" Feniel was beginning to get angry and Thranduil tried to calm the young ones.  
  
"Now, Reeneal," the King said in a soothing voice. "There will be a proper trial for Lehramie. I am sure the truth will come out then."  
  
At the mention of a trial, Reeneal turned to Legolas once again. This time, dread could be heard in her voice. "Will you speak at the tribunal, Legolas?"  
  
Legolas stiffening was not lost on the King, who met his son's stunned look, as though Legolas had just realized the answer to Reeneal's query.  
  
"Of course, he will," Feniel told her. "It's his responsibility. His duty."  
  
Thranduil felt sorrow clutch at his heart, gazing upon Legolas' stricken face and Reeneal's defeated stance. Tears threatened to flow from her but she shook them away as she gave a small curtsy before him. "Your highness," she murmured and silently walked out of the hall, leaving them in its deathly stillness.  
  
It seemed an eternity before any of them spoke, and when Legolas did, Thranduil's heart threatened to break at the misery he saw his son was under. "Please, Father...Don't ask it of me. I could not..."  
  
Thranduil reached out and touched his son's shoulder, wanting nothing more than to comfort the child, but not knowing how to go about it.  
  
Feniel spoke in a low tone beside them. "You must do it, cousin. As much as we are loath to heap the responsibility upon your young shoulders, it has to be done. You saw what happened."  
  
"You cannot ask me to stand at Lehramie's trial and accuse him!"  
  
"We do not ask that you accuse him," Feniel explained as though to a child. "We only ask that you tell the truth, what really happened." Feniel took a deep breath, calming himself. "You are a Prince, cousin. Before you make any rash decisions, ask yourself first where your loyalties lie. Your friend of your loyal subjects who depend upon you to uphold what is right, and what is just."  
  
Legolas sought his father's reassurance against Feniel's argument but saw none. Thranduil could not bear to lie to his son, so he merely gave a slow nod. "It has to be done."  
  
Before the King's eyes the Prince's look of helplessness mirrored Reeneal's. Ah, but why did it have to come to this?  
  
When Legolas had gone to his rooms Thranduil turned to find Feniel still standing there, a solemn expression on his fair face.  
  
"Such tragedy," Feniel whispered, but the King heard. "My heart breaks to see him this way." He turned to look at his uncle. "This seemed to prove my assumptions were right, but I find no joy in the knowledge, if it meant sorrow for both my cousin and sister."  
  
"And me as well," Thranduil said distractedly. "And yet, let us not be quick to judge, Feniel. Let us leave that to the tribunal. I myself find it hard to acknowledge all this is true."  
  
Feniel gave a small bow. "As you wish, my King," he said and went out of the hall, leaving the Elvenking to his thoughts.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
"No," Legolas whispered for the hundredth time since he entered his rooms. He could not do it. He would not.  
  
Yet he has to. But what would he say at the tribunal? That he saw Lehramie pull his bow on Gleofur? That he saw Lehramie's arrow pierce the guard's flesh, sending him to his untimely death?  
  
That Lehramie had indeed slain Gleofur?  
  
Reeneal's words came back to haunt him, and the condemnation in her face seemed to float before his very eyes. He shut her out by closing his eyes tightly against her vision.  
  
"Earendil, come to my aid," he prayed, although what good it would do, he was not too certain. He had no notion as to what he would do, or say.  
  
The next day when he went to the chamber where Lehramie was held he still did not know what to say. When he gazed upon the vacant look on his friend's face and encountered only silence, his misery became all the greater.  
  
He sat on a chair across Lehramie, who acknowledged her presence with a slight bow of his head.  
  
"Lehramie," he began, "what happened? I do not understand..."  
  
A flicker of emotion appeared in Lehramie's eyes but it was gone before Legolas could interpret it. Instead a dry smile came upon his friend's face. "That makes two of us, your Highness."  
  
Legolas dreaded to ask but he did so anyway, just to assuage his curiosity, perhaps. "Did you mean to take his life?"  
  
"Why are you asking me this?"  
  
"I have to know! I saw---"  
  
"What did you see, Legolas? What did your eyes tell you?" The question was met with uncomfortable silence, and Lehramie visibly recoiled. He stood up and, in a weary voice, said, "With respect to your stature, I ask that you leave my chambers, your Highness."  
  
"Just answer my question, Lehramie. Tell me---"  
  
Lehramie's blue eyes suddenly glinted, becoming almost murderous that the Prince was taken aback. "I will not ask again."  
  
Legolas, dismayed, gazed upon his friend. Without another word he got to his feet and walked out of the chamber, oblivious to the guards waiting outside. Feniel's words rang over and over in his head. 'He has a dark side to him...'  
  
Was that what he had just witnessed? 


	6. Fall From Grace

CHAPTER THREE - 'Fall From Grace'  
  
The tribunal went by in an almost dizzying pace, or at least it seemed for Legolas. When he was speaking in front of his own people, recounting the events leading to the incident, he was unaware of how pale and deathlike his face was, or of how lifeless his voice had sounded as he spoke. He was only conscious of his Father seated on his throne, quiet all throughout the trial, and Reeneal, with her hurt and angry eyes forever lashing at him, and Lehramie.  
  
Lehramie remained stony as he listened to every word that was spoken, every accusation directed at him. He seemed not to react to any of the taunts thrown at him by Gleofur's family, not even the words of sympathy and exclamations of disbelief from the rest. He was still as a statue, and this made it all the more hard for Legolas to go on.  
  
Yet one way or another he was able to do it. When it was over and it was Lehramie's turn to be quizzed by the elders, Legolas watched as Lehramie was badgered with a barrage of questions to which he gave no reply but cold silence.  
  
When Legolas could no longer take any more of Lehramie's noncompliance, he spoke up loudly, indignant. "For pity's sake, Lehramie, speak! Defend yourself!"  
  
Lehramie only looked at Legolas and for a moment the Prince thought he saw despair on his friend's face, but it was quickly replaced by that cold look, and Legolas knew he had no intention of doing so.  
  
"The Prince is speaking with you," one of the elders said.  
  
"I have nothing more to say," Lehramie replied, and the questioning ended there.  
  
Angry, Legolas went straight outside, knowing the elders would pronounce their verdict soon. He felt sick to his stomach and there was nothing he wanted more than to leave and forget everything that had happened.  
  
But he had to return to the tribunal, if only to hear what would become of his friend. In his heart lurked some small hope that the elders would look past the incident and everything would return to the way they were. But something else at the back of his mind knew that was not bound to happen.  
  
And he was right. At the back of the room Legolas stood as Thranduil pronounced the verdict. All he could see was the back of Lehramie's head, proudly held high, as though openly defying the elders but at the same time, showing he accepts whatever judgment was meted.  
  
The King spoke in so low a voice that Legolas had to crane his head to perfectly hear his words, and he regretted the action. For the words that were spoken were the exact same words he had dreaded, and prayed not to hear.  
  
"Slaying your own kind, spilling the blood of your own people - that is a crime that shall not go unpunished, and under other circumstances the punishment that would befit the crime is death. However, you have been a son to me, in more ways than one." He swallowed, finding it hard to go on speaking.  
  
"And so it is with greatest sorrow and pain that I pronounce you, Lehramie, son of Gerian, forever banished from Greenwood. You are never to set foot on this land, or on any elven soil. To do so would mean defiance of our verdict, and shall mete swift and instant death. You shall be escorted out of Greenwood on the morning after the morrow."  
  
Legolas did not wait to hear more. He turned on his heel and quickly strode out into the courtyard, past the guards and into the stables, where he knew he would be alone, even for a while.  
  
Feniel found him standing all alone, gazing at the beasts in the stalls without really seeing them.  
  
"How are you faring, cousin?" Feniel asked, laying a hand on the prince's shoulders.  
  
"Reeneal despises me," he whispered.  
  
"It will pass," Feniel said reassuringly.  
  
"Somehow I highly doubt that," he replied dryly. Then his face became grave, and Feniel noticed it.  
  
"I know how hard it is to lose someone dear to you."  
  
Legolas shrugged. "I guess I outgrew him."  
  
"You did what was right, Legolas."  
  
"Did I?" Legolas turned away, only to see his Father standing not a few feet away, a woeful expression on his face. It seemed the king had aged a thousand years for the past couple of days.  
  
"It's a great loss, what we have both just suffered, Legolas," Thranduil said. "You a brother, I, a son. More than a warrior and a healer, he was family. I could not bear to bring death upon him. I'd rather see him gone from here than dead."  
  
Legolas didn't say anything. He just walked towards his father and let himself be engulfed by the comfort his embrace brought, seeking solace, albeit momentarily.  
  
Fuming mad, Feniel left the King and Legolas alone and went straight to Lehramie's chambers where he found the healer's son in deep thought. Lehramie barely acknowledged his entrance, and this infuriated him even more.  
  
"I ought to throttle you," he breathed heatedly, "for the misery you have put the royal family under."  
  
Lehramie spoke without looking at him. "I don't see you miserable."  
  
"Because unlike them I see right through you."  
  
"I am getting weary of this, Feniel. What more do you want of me? I shall be leaving soon."  
  
Feniel seemed pleased and did not make any effort to hide it. "Indeed you shall."  
  
"I am more than ready," Lehramie stated flatly.  
  
"I admire your courage for accepting the inevitable. My cousin, sister and the King thought very highly of you, Lehramie. My household treated you like you were one of us. Did you really think you would get away with it? Believe me, if it was within my power, you shall be out of Greenwood this very night."  
  
To his chagrin, Lehramie smiled. "Why are you smiling? Did I say something funny?"  
  
"You sound like a child whose toy has been taken away from him and has just got it back. You lived with so much insecurity, did you not, Feniel? I understand. A structure is only as strong as its foundation, and yours is as defective." He smiled again. "You're right, Feniel. It is not – and will never be - within your power."  
  
Feniel gritted his teeth. "You dare insult me, commoner?"  
  
Lehramie ignored the term the other elf called him. "You could no longer touch me, so I say these things. You may be royalty, but I find nothing noble in you, Lord Feniel."  
  
A battle seemed to rage within Feniel, who visibly wrestled with his wrath. "It's a good thing we will be rid of your presence soon enough! Legolas would do better without you around."  
  
Lehramie appraised Feniel, and the other elf suddenly seemed to realize that whatever taunt he threw at the commoner did not have its desired effect. He seemed impervious to insults, and this angered him even more.  
  
Serene was the only word that could describe Lehramie's face as he regarded Feniel with those azure eyes.  
  
"I see it now," he said softly. "Underneath that childish bluster, you are just a child. Bullies like you are not born; they are made. Just like nobility. It is acted out, not spoken." He straightened. "Give me this few moments alone in my chamber, if you would give me that much."  
  
Feniel could no longer think of anything else to say, dumbstruck by Lehramie's words. He walked towards the door, but he could not simply let this go. Throwing another sneer at Lehramie, he said, "Perhaps, when you get out of these woods you would meet your grandfather. You would have a lot of catching up to do."  
  
But Lehramie had turned away, not willing to give Feniel the satisfaction of seeing him cringe. "You have caused enough misery already, Lehramie. I hope it all ends with you leaving." Then he left.  
  
The whole night was spent with Legolas lying on his bed, peaceful sleep eluding him. The next morning he went out into the woods, opting not to meet his instructors. He spent the entire morning just walking underneath the trees, hoping time would rewind itself and he would find he was back on that fateful day, when Lehramie was with him and all those things never happened.  
  
But when he wandered home later in the afternoon he felt even more dejected. His mind seemed to close off to everything else, and the other elves he met and passed along the way had gone unnoticed.  
  
When he looked around him, he realized he was outside the door of Lehramie's chambers. The two guards standing outside the door acknowledged their prince with small bows. Shaken back to his senses, Legolas turned to retrace his steps back to the palace but stopped short when the door to the chambers opened and Reeneal stepped out.  
  
She looked ashen, her eyes rimmed in red. Legolas silently berated himself, knowing he was very much to blame for her unhappiness. He stood there, gazing at her, who looked at him with such vulnerability and gloom. He longed to comfort her, but how could he do so when he himself badly needed consolation, and could not find it anywhere?  
  
Reeneal walked up before him and wordlessly gazed upon her cousin's face. Then she bowed her head. "My Prince," she said and began to turn away.  
  
"Reeneal, do not do this. I beg you. I do not think I could endure it."  
  
"Endure what, my Prince?" Reeneal asked.  
  
"I am losing my brother and dearest friend. Let me not lose you as well," he pleaded.  
  
Reeneal's eyes searched his, and gave a melancholy smile. "You only lose that which you let go. Unlike you, cousin, I have never let go of Lehramie, and I shall never do so. Hence I shall never lose him. He shall be in my heart, for always. I know the man that he was, the man that he is, and the man that he could be, if not for your cruelty." Excusing herself, she walked away without as much as another backward glance.  
  
Before he realized it, Legolas found himself inside Lehramie's chamber and was suddenly struck by how bare it looked, a fact that had escaped him the first time he entered it days ago.  
  
Perhaps he did not really pay much attention then but now that Lehramie's fate now glared at him ruthlessly, Legolas finally realized the stark and ominous coldness of the place.  
  
Lehramie was fiddling with an arrow, his face barely registering surprise at seeing the Prince. Neither did he bother to stand up, as was customary for elves whenever a member of the royal family enters the room. He remained seated and showed no intent of greeting Legolas.  
  
His eyes were drawn to the small pouch in the corner, knowing it contained some of Lehramie's possessions, which he now remembered was very few.  
  
"I see you are all set to go." The words came out unchecked, and he instantly regretted saying them.  
  
When he turned to see how Lehramie reacted to this, he found his friend still sharpening the dart, apparently with no intention of speaking.  
  
"Talk to me, Lehramie," he said beseechingly, getting the vague sense of needing reassurance from Lehramie himself.  
  
Just when he thought Lehramie would ignore him altogether, he spoke.  
  
"What do you need to hear?"  
  
Feeling a bit hopeful, Legolas sat down opposite Lehramie. "Tell me I was wrong, that you are innocent."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
Legolas could not surmise exactly what Lehramie was thinking as he asked the question, but he paused, then spoke carefully but with conviction. "And I will defy them. I will go before my Father, before the elders, before our people. I will do everything in my power to have you vindicated. All I need," he leaned forward, "is reassurance that your hands are clean."  
  
Lehramie seemed to consider this for a moment, not saying anything. He laid the arrow down on the table, and spread his palms before him.  
  
"Look at my hands," he said quietly. "They speak nothing. Walk through the woods...you will hear nothing. Nothing, Legolas. No assurances, no proof. Only words. My words. But I will not defend myself, not before the elders, not before you." He stood up and paced to the far end of the room without taking his eyes off the prince. "You made up your mind about me the moment you saw me draw on the bowstring. I have stated my case, and now forgive me but I have to rest. I have a long journey ahead of me on the morrow."  
  
Crushed, Legolas got up from where he sat. "You are still my brother," he avowed.  
  
"Watch your tongue, your Highness. You know not of what you speak."  
  
"You will always be my brother," Legolas asserted, pretending not to hear Lehramie's words.  
  
When Lehramie met his gaze Legolas was struck by the coldness in those steely blue eyes. "We were never brothers, my Prince. You are royalty; I am but a commoner, and a murderer, to boot." Then he turned his back on Legolas, ending the conversation.  
  
The Prince felt it was the end of something bigger. And despair once more took hold of him.  
  
Gloom, it seemed, laid siege on the whole of Greenwood the next morning. The palace halls were unusually silent, and tension seemed to fill the very air. Reeneal had not come out of her rooms since the day before, and the Prince was no fun, either. He had not spoken a word to anyone, not even to the King.  
  
When the hour came for Lehramie and his escorts to depart, Thranduil was not surprised to finally see Legolas joining the party. Lehramie, on the other hand, did not react upon seeing the prince. All his attention was directed to the King.  
  
He bowed before Thranduil, plainly dismissing the presence of the elders. "My King," he whispered reverently.  
  
"You have my blessing, Lehramie." The King found it an enormous struggle to speak. "May the Valar guide you always."  
  
Lehramie looked up at the King. "If I may have one last wish, my King, would you grant it?"  
  
Without any second thought Thranduil nodded. "Certainly. What is it?"  
  
"From the palace gates until we venture out into the woods, I do not want any royalty to send me off."  
  
Gasps erupted among the elves gathered around them in the courtyard, but Lehramie did not pay them any heed. Thranduil was clearly taken aback by the request, and when he glanced at Legolas and saw the pained look on his son's face, it was almost his undoing.  
  
But he had given his word. He spoke to the Prince with his eyes, willing him to understand. When Legolas released his grip on the reins of his horse, Thranduil felt an awful sense of relief.  
  
From the courtyard everyone watched the progress of the convoy out of the palace. Legolas, handing over his horse to a stable boy, walked beside the procession, stopping only when they reached the gates.  
  
He looked up with grief at Lehramie. This time, when Lehramie looked at Legolas, gone was the stone statue. Sadness was revealed in the blue depths of his eyes as he beheld the prince. He reached into his pouch and pulled out something wrapped in cloth.  
  
He handed the wrapped object down to Legolas, who gingerly accepted it, holding it as though it was made of breakable glass. Wondering what it was, he glanced up at Lehramie.  
  
"Fare thee well, my Prince," Lehramie whispered. Without waiting for Legolas to reply he gave a slight kick on the horse's flanks and spurred it forward.  
  
Legolas remained standing there, rooted to the spot even after the last of the convoy disappeared from view. Remembering he still held the cloth- wrapped object in his hand, he removed the cloth and lifted its content.  
  
Lehramie's knife. The one that looked exactly like his. When they were younger, Thranduil had each given him and Lehramie identical long knives with a white handle.  
  
The sight of Lehramie's knife in his hand brought a sense of finality to Legolas, and shamelessly, heedless of everyone around him, he let the tears flow.

* * *

Many thanks to Haldir's Heart and Soul, Keeper of your Heart and clumseysweetpea for the reviews! I am also having fun with this fic, although I have to admit I am still really green around the edges...haha. Thanks again! 


	7. Off The Mark

**CHAPTER FIVE – 'Off the Mark'**

Everything seemed to have gone back to normal after Lehramie had gone, except for those who truly cared for him. Ever watchful, Thranduil had kept his eyes on his son, growing ever more protective of the Prince.

Meanwhile, Legolas went on as before. Only, he seemed to grow more passionate about training with the bow and the knife. He would spend endless hours on the grounds, not stopping training even when the others had paused to rest or ended their session for the day. Although he remained polite and cheerful towards everyone, one could sense the deep melancholy in him, as one whom had a part of him wrenched away so ruthlessly.

In the eyes of those around the Prince, he seemed to have grown abruptly and too soon, with only the slightest hint that once he was once a child full of mischief, pulling foolish pranks and causing quite some stir within Greenwood the Great. He became noticeably more somber, almost always immersed in a pool of thoughts that everyone was hesitant to pull him out of.

Nothing had changed between him and the King. More than ever they grew closer, if only for the mere fact that they alone were able to fully comprehend the anguish the other was still going through.

Instead what became evident to everyone was the distance Reeneal had kept from everyone, including her brother Feniel and Legolas. _Particularly_ Legolas.

It brought a great sadness, especially for the King, to see his children under such strain, but there are certain things that one, not even the Elvenking, could take into his hands and have full control over. And so he let it lie...hoping for the day to come that the bitter memory of Lehramie's departure would be forgotten. Or at the very least, its torment eased.

The same hope lingered within the young Prince, as he tirelessly made attempts to reach Reeneal, who had withdrawn into a dark place where she alone could hide, untouchable, utterly remote. She seemed too oblivious to everyone that she did not even have the slightest awareness of how she was making every waking morn almost unbearable for the Prince. Still, he held on, hoping...

But it was not to be.

As this inner turmoil raged, outside, rumours of the Dark Lord taking his seat in Dol Guldur in Southern Greenwood took its toll on the elves. Long-buried fears of the past played on the minds of the Woodland elves, causing them to strengthen their borders, making sure not to let any of the unfamiliar cross into their homeland. The Prince became one of those who took to the front lines, going to the borders, gathering news and bringing it before the King.

Only, a greater part of him wanted to find any small shred of information he could get of what had become of Lehramie. But there was not the slightest whisper that Lehramie had even dared venture near the borders.

And on the sixty-seventh year after Lehramie's leave-taking, Reeneal spoke her first words to Legolas.

The Prince was in his rooms, preparing for another expedition into the woods. Frustration welled deep within him, as it always had these past few years when he remembers his brother. They had received word of wargs camping on the eastern border, and the desire to slay some of those vile creatures overcame him so suddenly he wanted – no, he NEEDED – to get out of the confines of the palace.

There she stood, heartbreakingly sullen, looking at him with the saddest green eyes. Legolas could not help but smile a little, delighted that she should at last speak with him.

"If I may have a moment..." her voice trailed.

Remembering his manners, Legolas bade her into his chambers and offered a seat, which she declined with a small shake of her head. Instead she moved to the window and looked out into the tall trees outside the palace.

Legolas silently observed Reeneal, noting the pale skin, her bony frame. She had become thinner every day, despite her almost successful efforts to hide it with the clothes that she wore. He'd say _almost_, since the illusion had never worked on him.

"I wanted you to be the first to know," she began, not looking at him, "after the King, of course."

"Know what?" he asked.

"I am leaving these shores. For Valinor," she replied, turning around to meet Legolas' dazed look.

Her words were not at all what he expected, or hoped to hear. He shook his head, smiling nervously. "Surely, you jest."

A sad smile crossed her face. "The ship leaves tonight."

Without him being aware of it, Legolas was wringing his hands, still shaking his head. "No, you are just saying this to punish me, and I have to hand it over to you, you are doing it quite nicely--"

"Not punishment, Legolas," she said softly, "never punishment." When her eyes began to brim with tears, the Prince finally realized she was telling the truth.

Reeneal went on. "I had hoped...oh, how I hoped! That one day I would wake up and find him home, with us. A thousand times I was told he was never coming back, and a million times I said no, I shall see him again, and we shall be together."

Legolas probed deeply into her eyes, seeing nothing there but sincerity. "But how do you believe that will come to pass if you leave?"

"I _will _leave, Legolas. Nothing would stop me," Reeneal declared with conviction. "If I could not be with him here and now, then I shall wait for him in the only place where I could feel peace. That is why I came to you, for I know you alone could help me."

"Help?"

Moving closer to the Prince, she said, "They keep saying he might be dead, but in my heart I know he lives still. I ask that when you find him, and you get to talk, tell him I am waiting."

"What makes you believe I shall find him?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, you will. Do you think I know nothing of your quest to know where he is, how he is? Believe me, I know." She paused. "Promise me, cousin."

The word 'cousin' bit into him and he smiled joyously. "If that would make you happy, then I swear."

She paused, and to his surprise she reached up and touched the side of his face with shaky fingers. "It was such agony to behold you and be reminded..." Her hand fell away. "I never hated you, cousin. Bitter, yes. But if I had, in any way, made you feel like you were being punished, forgive me. I turned away those times for it was hard to gaze upon you and not think of him...and wish."

Silent understanding passed between them as Legolas nodded. "I believe you have to say your farewell to Feniel, then. I reckon he would not be too happy to hear it."

Reeneal gave a slight shrug and stepped away from him. Halfway to the door she halted, as if she had just though of something.

"Do you remember the day when we met outside...his chambers?" Legolas noticed her slight hesitation to mention Lehramie's name, but chose not remark on it.

He nodded, harking back to that day and remembering the anguished look she had given him. "Why?"

"That was the last time I spoke with him. It seemed a long time ago but I remember it all too vividly for it was the only time he _truly_ talked with me. He spoke of things..."

His interest awakened, Legolas asked, "What things?"

"At one point during our conversation, he began to babble, and the way he spoke...I do not think I have seen him so passionate about what he was saying. For a moment it seemed he forgot I was there." She shook her head, bewildered. "At first I did not fully grasp the meaning of his muddled words."

"What did he say?" he asked again.

Reeneal looked at her cousin. "He was hurt, that you, of all people, should doubt him. That you actually believed..." She breathed, as if telling him these things took a lot of effort. "He thought he knew you, he said, and that you knew him."

Weakly, Legolas sank down on the edge of the large bed, contemplating her words. "He said that..." he whispered, not knowing what to think. "And what do you think?" he asked in a small voice.

"Does it matter?" she asked back. "At that moment, I only had one thought in mind. He was innocent. And to this day I still hold to that. He is innocent, Legolas."

"But I saw--"

"Even the keenest eyes could be deceived, cousin. Even the wisest could be fooled."

The Prince sensed, more than heard, her progress to the door. He heard the door open and waited for it to click shut behind her but she spoke again.

"And he said another thing. I am not quite sure what it meant, but you might." When he didn't speak, she continued. "He said that if he truly wanted to kill Gleofur, he would have made it count, not too far off the mark."

Minutes after she had left, Legolas still sat there, going over her words. He could not quite figure out what it meant, either. Yet he had the uncanny feeling that somehow he should.

The frustration once again built up in him. Grabbing his weapons he left his rooms and went straight to the stables, where he found Feniel speaking with a stable boy.

Feniel seemed baffled at the grim look on his cousin's face. "Where are you going?"

Legolas leapt into the back of the beast. "I am slaying myself some warg," he replied darkly and sent his horse into a gallop, leaving a bewildered Feniel behind.

* * *

In the northeast, beyond Erebor, on the foothills near the Iron Mountains, a lone figure stood, trying to discern the peaks of the Mountains of Mirkwood.

Mirkwood. That was its name now. Somehow the new name awoke in him a sense of the inevitable. It was his home no longer. Greenwood the Great was now a thing of the past. And so was he.

Maybe one day he would behold it again, smell the air around it, feel the ground. Or maybe not.

He had heard about all the events that had beset those once-hallowed woods. Now and again his keen eyes and ears would note the foul things entering its borders. A somewhat smug smile appeared on his face.

Turning away, he made his way back. Back to his real home...among those who he least expected to be with.

* * *

Legolas was in a crouch, trying to detect where the warg had hidden. He did not think he would be so lucky, spotting the foul beast so easily when he burst into the glade. It had been feasting on the flesh of a deer that made the mistake of crossing its path. When it spotted Legolas, it broke away and dove straight into one of the tall brushes.

Although it seemed a bit strange that the warg should run away from its enemy - and a potential meal at that - Legolas threw all reason and went to the task of tracking it down.

The Prince was sure the warg was not completely without nerve, despite its initial reaction of hiding. It was around here somewhere, waiting for its chance to attack him. Well, too bad, he thought, and took out one of his knives.

The sound of a horse's hooves came from behind and Legolas made the mistake of turning his head to see who rides his way. When he heard Feniel call out his name in alarm, he realized his blunder too late.

He was thrown bodily on the ground, flat on his stomach. A cry issued out of him as he felt sharp fangs bite into his arm, and to his dismay the knife was flicked off his hand.

"Legolas!" Feniel called out, and from the corner of his eye Legolas glimpsed Feniel having a hard time focusing his aim at the beast that now had its full weight on top of the Prince, its teeth still fully embedded into the arm.

Icy cold water seemed to wash over Legolas as realization hit him from out of nowhere, striking him hard. Suddenly the fangs biting deep into his arm seemed insignificant, the weight of the warg pinning him down unimportant. Feniel was obviously having trouble training his arrow on the beast. Reeneal's words came to him like a clap of thunder.

_Not far off the mark..._

He was not sure where he got the strength, but with an unexpected burst of will he heaved himself up, throwing the beast off his back. With lightning speed he jumped to his feet and took a step back, giving Feniel a wider angle to take aim.

The arrow shot through the warg's lower back, wrenching a chilling cry from the beast. The pain on his bleeding arm completely forgotten, Legolas reached for his bow and delivered the final shot right between the warg's eyes.

He watched distastefully as the warg fell on its back, lifeless.

Feniel was beside him in an instant, breathing hard. "You are bleeding. Are you all right?"

Legolas could not take his eyes off the dead beast, not really hearing Feniel. "Now I know," he said softly.

"Know what?"

Legolas looked up at Feniel, his eyes bright with a sudden discovery. "I do not know how it happened," he said, "but Lehramie did not kill Gleofur!"

Feniel looked completely surprised. "What are you saying?"

Legolas was shaking his head, having a sudden desire to laugh out loud. "Lehramie did not mean to kill him! Gleofur died, yes, but Lehramie had no intent whatsoever!" He paced around the glade, acting as though the encounter with the warg earlier had not ever occurred. "I see it now. When I saw you aim for the warg, it hit me. Out of the blue, it hit me."

Feniel was looking at him with such a baffled expression on his face, as though the Prince was out of his mind.

"Don't you see, Feniel? If Lehramie had truly wanted to kill Gleofur, why would he hit him on the shoulder? Why not aim for the heart? Or the head?"

"Perhaps he missed," Feniel remarked, but Legolas was shaking his head vigorously.

"No," he said. "You forget, Feniel. Lehramie never misses."


	8. Follow the Sun

**CHAPTER SIX. 'Follow the Sun'**

Thranduil shook his head, doubt playing on his features. One of the elders, Lemor, said, "That does not change the fact that an elf was slain."

Legolas could not be swayed. "I know that, but what if it was not the arrow that ended Gleofur's life?"

Arnol, the most esteemed of the elders, spoke up from his seat beside Thranduil. "And what could have possibly done it?" He shook his head when Legolas could not say anything to this. "This matter was long-buried, my Prince. I beg you not to dig up the past for it shall do nothing but bring more complications. We have enough troubles as it is."

For the first time in his life the Prince had the urge to smash his fist into the elder's face. But he did no such thing. Ignoring Arnol, he turned once more on the King.

"Father, have you nothing to say about this?" he asked desperately.

After a moment of thought the King straightened in his seat. "If it is exoneration of Lehramie's name that you seek, Legolas, then seek no more. Despite the disgrace with which he left with, he was still a son of Greenwood. Still one of us. It does not matter what he has done, he will always be remembered."

Resentment rose in Legolas. He glanced dismissively at the other elders who were nodding in agreement with the King's words. However, seeing the bitter look the Prince gave them, they subtly found other things to do.

"Always remembered, but still cast out." Legolas spun on his heel and walked out of the hall, passing Feniel standing by the doorway but ignoring him. At the end of the hallway stood Reeneal, accompanied by one of her maids, apparently ready to take her leave.

Clearly she had heard the exchange inside, for she gave Legolas a slow smile. "Even the blind can see," she said and bowed before him. "I hope that, with your eyes opened, you could seek him out, even in the deepest recesses of Middle-earth."

Legolas' blue eyes held the promise, and that was enough for the fair Reeneal. She could leave for the Havens in peace.

* * *

Dirt was in his nails, and soot was all over his face. Satisfied that it would work well in carrying on his deception, he wiped more grime into his hair, enough to conceal the unmistakable sheen of elvish locks.

Such a shame that he had to cut its length halfway. Of course, since elvish hair tend to grow back rapidly than most, he had to go through the wearisome task of chopping it off again and again.

So let it be. He had gone through all these years without anyone discovering what he truly was, and going through these simple, though arduous tasks of concealing it was a small feat.

He had grown used to it, anyhow. He had resigned himself to the fact that the dirt was his friend, the earth his ally...and this group of nomadic humans were his refuge.

Realizing he had stayed from the camp far too long already, he stood up. Soon they would begin to wonder where he was. They had made their dwelling within the foothills of the Iron Mountains for more than a year now, and they looked set to settle there longer. Nothing had disturbed them for the length of their stay, and the humans were beginning to feel kinship with the place.

So did he. Except it still felt close to home or, to be more precise, his old home.

Less than a hundred leagues from their dwelling Lehramie sensed something was amiss. Piercing the dark distance that lay between him and his home, his eyes saw traces of smoke coming from that direction.

Uttering a small prayer to no one in particular, he took off on a swift run across the fields, willing his legs to go faster and his wildly beating heart to be still. As he neared home screams filling the air reached his ears, and he ran faster. The smoke was now gone, now replaced by tongues of flame that illuminated the dark night like a torch in a murky cavern.

Everything was ablaze when he reached the area. Here and there corpses of people he used to know were strewn and a few others were scampering about, wild looks on their eyes, not even recognizing him.

"What happened?" he asked but no one would answer him. They were all running in different directions, as though chased by the very essence of evil. Exasperated, he roughly grabbed one of them. "Aidyl," he shouted the man's name. "Tell me, what is going on?"

"Elves!" Aidyl replied, terror written all over his face. "They have come! Oh, they are terrible! My wife...she's been murdered!" Then with a violent tug, Aidyl pulled away and ran off.

Bewildered, he turned and squinted against the heat coming from the burning houses. Elves! Here! But it seemed too...far-fetched!

Wanting to see it with his own eyes, he made his way into the burning group of houses, taking the opposite direction the others were taking. Shielding his face from flying embers and ashes he followed the sound of almost manic laughter.

Then he saw them. They were dressed in the greens and browns of Greenwood, only more filthy. Their hoods drawn up to conceal their faces, at first glance they indeed seemed like elves. But he knew better.

For one they were larger, with broader shoulders, more heavily built than the regular elves. For some reason he felt his heart pound harder against his chest. He could not take his eyes off the cloaks worn by the group. Indeed, they were once Greenwood cloaks, now fully transformed by filth and dirt. He watched, hidden from their view, as they threw their torches away and began to leave.

The sound of a child's wail shook him out of his reverie and, thankful for the distraction, he went towards it. He could not bear to stand there and watch those monsters while long-forgotten thoughts of his kin Rolfan appeared in his mind's eye.

He stopped in front of the burning hut where the wail was coming from. At the doorway he saw the charred corpse of one of the hunters he had grown fond of. Swallowing his remorse, he covered his nose and walked into the flaming house.

He was immediately assaulted with the stinging heat of the fire, the smoke blurring his vision, yet he kept on, willing the child to go on crying so he could locate her. He found her under one of the tables, coughing violently against the smoke. Flames already began licking the doorway but he easily leaped over it and took hold of the little girl. Using his cloak to cover both of them he braved the inferno and until they were out of the burning house safely.

But not safe enough. Setting the girl to the ground, he felt a sudden pain at the back of his head. Throwing himself to the side he turned to find one of the green-cloaked beings standing over him. Before he could react further another blow was delivered to his stomach, causing him to choke up blood and curl against the intense pain that shot through him.

The belt that held his sword to his waist was somehow torn away from him, and the sword was out of his reach.

Helplessly he watched as the green-cloaked stranger lifted an enormous slab of rock, almost as large as a small babe, and mercilessly let it drop on top of the frozen child.

"No!" he screamed against the bitter liquid that rose in his mouth, watching the little girl fall under the weight of the rock. Turning glazed eyes toward the attacker, he staggered to his feet.

Their attacker turned to him, lifting his hood. There stood before him a giant of an orc, and yet not an orc. It looked like it was once human, fair even, but it ended there. It was hideous and grimy, and the eyes held such malice as it beheld its prey.

Lehramie squinted against the intense heat from the blaze all around him, fixing his attention on the bulky figure of the orc, unwilling, even for a moment to let his guard down.

"Who on earth are you?!" he yelled boldly at the creature, forgetting this was his first encounter ever with any of the foul beings.

Instead of a reply, the orc gave out a growl that was neither human nor beast, making the skin at the back of Lehramie's neck prickle. All the things he had been told about these creatures were nothing compared to this. This was more real. More terrifying.

When it spoke, the voice was guttural, almost incomprehensible.

But he heard the word. "Elf!" it said and lifted another slab of rock, aiming at him.

With his last ounce of strength he rolled over, avoiding the rock. Still clutching his middle, he leapt to his feet and drew his sword. The orc seemed surprised by the swift movements that it merely stood there, transfixed.

He took this opportunity. With an angry shout, Lehramie lunged at the orc, grabbing it by the collar of its cloak. With a strength he did not know he possessed, he threw it bodily against the wall of a burning building. At the impact Lehramie heard a loud crash from within, and he looked up to find the roof had caved in.

Ignoring the danger of the burning house toppling over him, Lehramie thre himself hard on the creature, slamming it back again on the wall.

The creature's menacing growl turned into a mewling cry. Lehramie ignored its pleas and went on bashing its face with his fist.

When he finally stopped he was breathing hard, and his skin now stung with too much exposure to the flames that seemed to increase by the second around him. With a disgusted sound he let go of the creature and stepped back. He watched it distastefully as it slid to the ground, its back leaning against the wall.

With resolute steps he walked over to where his sword lay and picked it up. Blind fury is flooding him, he knew, but the filthy orc deserved anything Lehramie was about to give it.

When he stood before the creature, it did not move or say anything. It merely sat there, looking up at Lehramie, its hideous face further made gruesome by its own blood, if it was indeed blood that ran in these creatures' veins.

Lehramie lifted the sword.

"Die, beast," he grated.

His sword arm stopped in mid-air. Something in the orc's grisly countenance stopped him.

Odd, but the despicable thing seemed to be smiling.

Shaking with barely contained anger, Lehramie stayed his sword, at least for the moment.

The orc was saying something inaudible. To human ears it would sound like incoherent chatter, but Lehramie's ears perceived it all the same.

"Kill me...I beg you."

Lehramie took a step back, mystified. He did not expect this.

The beast went on. "I beg you. End it...Gerian...my son."

The beating of his heart suddenly became faster, each thud getting louder, deafening even him. Lehramie shook his head, loath to believe what lay before him.

"No...it can't be..."

"End it!" The growl became louder and the orc moved to his feet to attack Lehramie. Out of reflex more than intent Lehramie's arms lifted and his sword sliced through the air.

Screaming incoherently, Lehramie hacked at it, cleanly lopping its head off. "No...You are not...You can't be..." he was saying, tears were blurring his vision.

The orc's head fell to the ground, bounced once, twice. Its body crumpled to the ground, against the wall, lifeless.

As if in a trance, Lehramie's gaze was drawn towards the severed head, lying on its right ear. He moved closer, dreading to confirm what he already realized moments ago.

The face was fixed in that mask of pure cruelty, grotesque and revolting. But all Lehramie could see were the eyes.

Its eyes...Glazed though it was moments ago, in death it was clear...and it was as blue as the sky.

Azure.

Like Legolas' eyes.

Like his own.

Like Gerian, his father's.

Rolfan's.

His cry sounded inhuman even to his ears, as it pierced the night sky, echoing through the foothills, resounding through the flames that raged all around him.

Despair overwhelmed him, and he felt like he was drowning. Only, there was no torrent to sweep him away, only the blaze that bit at him.

Lehramie stumbled away from the corpse and its head, just in the nick of time. The walls of the burning house collapsed atop the orc. Rolfan. His grandfather.

He knelt on the ground weakly. The tears came on swift. Not even when he was cast out from his home, not even when Legolas turned away from him, did he shed a tear. But now...He felt he had never wept so much in his long life.

For a moment he forgot where he was. The sound of walls and roofs crashing down was unheard. The blistering heat of the flames went unnoticed.

His own blood. His family. His kin. Rolfan, once on of the fairest among Elves. In death, he was reduced to this vile thing, its blood spilled by his own grandson. It did not matter that he asked for it. It did not matter that he begged for death.

He was dead. By the sword of his son's son.

Another loud crash broke Lehramie out of his trance. He turned to see the little girl pinned under the rock, unmoving, but her fearful eyes were wide open, watching him. Throwing his sword away he moved towards her.

But he did not make it. From somewhere an ember took to the air and angled down towards him. In an instant his cloak caught fire. Alarmed, he fumbled to untie the cloth from around his neck, feeling the heat on his back. To his utter panic the blasted knot would not come off!

He was flailing, his cloak now fully ablaze. He threw himself onto the ground and began rolling, hoping it would put off the fire. Just when he thought he would burn to a crisp he was doused over with water.

Gasping, he sat up to find the fire was put out. Wiping his face with his palms he looked up to find two faces bent over him, recognizing the captain Marin and his companion Ackor. Grateful, he gave a weak grin.

"Marin! I thought you have gone!" he exclaimed. However, none of them replied. They were looking at him strangely, as though they were just seeing him for the first time.

"What? What is it?" he asked, starting to get up but stopping when the tip of Marin's sword came to rest on his neck. "Marin, what--"

"An elf!" Marin pushed the tip deeper and he winced, half-expecting it to pierce the skin.

"All this time you fooled us!" Ackor was aghast.

He became still, realizing most of the grime he had put on earlier had been washed off, and when he wiped the water off his face...

Shaking his head, he said, "I never meant to fool you, Marin."

Marin seemed to wrestle with something in his mind. He closed his eyes, shook his head and drew his sword back.

Relieved that the sword was already nowhere near his neck, he sat up. "Marin--"

Marin whirled on him. "Your kind did this!" he spat out. Breathing deeply, he looked down at him. "You have your life. Take it and leave."

He looked at Marin, half-expecting the man to break into a smile and say he was jesting with him. But there was none of that coming.

"Marin," he implored.

"I mean it. I am sparing you this time. Leave, _Lehramie_."

Lehramie, a glint in his eyes, stood up and regarded Marin intently. With a swift movement he picked up his own sword from the ground and faced Marin. "I shall not."

* * *

Thranduil was at the watchtower of the palace when Legolas sought to find him early in the morning. Feniel and two other warriors were with the King when the Prince found them, and they were looking at something from afar.

Following the direction of their eyes, Legolas knew something had happened the previous night. But he went straight to his chambers last night, too angry at being dismissed by the elders.

Feniel whispered to Legolas' ear. "The Red Sun...it rises."

Legolas nodded solemnly. "Blood has been spilled."

"We saw flames last night," Feniel said. "From the Iron Mountains, it seemed. Scouts have already been sent. We expect them later in the evening to return."

As Legolas' keen eyes pierced through the gloom and watched smoke rising from far off, he had this sudden uncanny feeling...a mixture of dread and anxiety, though over what, he did not know.

But he was about to find out later that evening when the scouts of Mirkwood arrived, obviously exhausted. They seemed to have flown their horses over the leagues to get home soon.

Edval, the captain of the warriors, bowed low before the King and the Prince. "Your Highness," he spoke reverently. "We came as fast as we could."

"What news do you bring, Edval?" Thranduil asked.

Edval nodded. One of the warriors came forward and laid something wrapped in cloth on the King's feet.

"What is that which you bear?" Feniel asked, eyeing the cloth.

"When we arrived at the foothills of the Iron Mountains, we found a humanfolk dwelling burned to the ground," Edval began. There were charred remains of houses and livestock and worse, corpses. Humans burned to their deaths." Gasps rose from the crowd that had assembled in the hall. "We did not find any living being among the ruins. Except one.

"She was a little girl, barely alive when one of the warriors found her. She was pinned under a huge slab of rock, although how she got under it, we were never able to find out. We tried to heal her wounds, but she died all the same. She was much too weak." Sympathy flooded the great hall; the thought of one dying so young seemed unjust somehow.

"And what has this to do with anything?" Feniel asked, wondering where this was all going.

Edval threw an almost intolerant look at the King's nephew that Legolas had to bite back a smile. "Before she died she said something, and we were unsure if it was delirium that caused it, but we were jolted nonetheless."

"What was it?" The Elvenking was leaning forward on his seat.

"Don't flag, warrior," Feniel warned, but the captain ignored him.

"She gave one confounded look at us, and said, 'You look like him.' We asked, 'Who?'" Edval paused, throwing a meaningful look at the Prince. "What she said next astounded us. She said, 'Lehramie.'"

Time seemed to stand still for Legolas as he stared hard at the captain. Suddenly forgetting everyone else in the room, he whispered, "Lehramie..."

Edval continued. "She began to go into shock, suddenly mouthing off incoherent words but we made out something from her words. She said 'Lehramie...help him...they are going to kill him.' Then she was gone." He reached for the cloth and revealed two items: a partially burnt piece of cloth and a belt, burnt on the edges.

Legolas froze, looking at the belt, a chord of familiarity struck within him. When Edval unfolded the burnt cloth, it turned out to be once a cloak of the Greenwood elves.

"What are those?" Feniel asked the very same question in everyone's mind.

Edval turned to look at Legolas. "I thought the Prince, and his Highness may know."

All eyes turned towards the Prince, who stood stock-still. "Lehramie's cloak," he whispered. "And his belt."

Thranduil, in an almost unrecognizable voice, spoke. "You know what this means?"

Edval nodded, sadness written all over his face. "I fear that we have found Lehramie far too late. We tried to find him amongst the burned corpses but they were beyond recognition. He could have been anyone of them, as most were males."

Legolas no longer heard the rest of Edval's report. The phrases 'buried them properly' and 'at peace' barely registered in his mind. What he kept seeing was Reeneal's hopeful eyes when she had looked up at him not too many nights ago and asked her to find Lehramie.

He was not aware of leaving the room, or his feet even moving. Yet somehow they have, for he found himself in the long corridor where he, Lehramie, and Reeneal had spent countless hours chasing each other down.

Weakly he leaned against the wall and did not even turn at the sound of someone behind him. Not even when he heard his father's voice did he stir.

"This was not how I had hoped to find him."

Legolas thought for a moment, then said, "So have I." Slowly he turned his head and met his father's grief. Behind him stood Feniel, a dazed look on his face.

Feniel shook his head. "This was not supposed to happen..." he uttered, more to himself than to anyone. "This is an injustice."

Legolas nodded, swallowing his grief before them. "I fear I can no longer keep my promise to your sister, Feniel. Even in our parting I failed her." With a strength coming from necessity more than spirit he pushed away from the wall and walked towards his rooms. "I shall need some moment alone," he told them in a death-like voice and quietly let himself into his chambers.

* * *

Alone in the comfort of his own rooms he glanced around. Odd, how he felt empty and burdened, both at the same time. It's strange how he felt conflicted, yet everything seemed clear.

If this was, indeed, the end...may the shock go as quickly as it had come, although he knew the pain would not be as relenting.

If this was the end...

FIN. (next part will be up soon!)


End file.
